


when september ends

by inkk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-19
Updated: 2014-04-19
Packaged: 2018-01-19 23:35:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1488262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkk/pseuds/inkk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the brilliant boy with the sea-glass eyes, will never come home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when september ends

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This is officially my first post on Archive Of Our Own! Yay!  
> :) Hope you enjoy, and please tell me what I can improve.
> 
> The title belongs to the song 'When September Ends' by Greenday.  
> Thanks for reading!

John Watson would remember things about that day for the rest of his life.  
He would remember seeing the red rosette of blood and tissue - like a tuft in upholstery - blooming from the back of William Sherlock Scott Holmes' head, the wound appearing a nanosecond before the booming report of the 9-milimetre Glock fully registered in John's ears. He would remember tripping and falling to the ground six feet behind Sherlock, one of his molars cracking, another incisor biting through his tongue. He would remember his ears ringing then, a fine spangle of blood droplets on the backs of his hands and lower arms.  
But most of all, John would remember the sight of Sherlock Holmes folding to the dirt as though he were swooning, his legs going soft and wobbly like those of a rag doll.  
That was perhaps the strangest part: the way the man seemed to instantly lose his substance. One would expect such an important person not to easily give up the ghost, to fall like a great redwood or old landmark building under the wrecking ball, literally shaking the earth upon impact.  
But the fact is, that day, in the waning golden summer light of the arena, Sherlock Holmes would fade out without even a whisper.

In the immediate aftermath, John finds his entire body seizing up with chills. Gooseflesh pours down over his flesh, everything going blurry and crystal at the same time as though his spirit were separating from his earthbound self. He loses control of his actions. He finds himself rising to his feet without even being aware of it.  
He finds himself moving toward the fallen man with numb, involuntary steps, the strides of an automaton. "No, wait... No, no, wait, wait, wait," he gibbers as he approaches the dying genius. His knees hit the ground. His tears run across the front of him as he reaches down, cradling Sherlock's head and beginning to scream.  
Nestled in John's hands, the blood getting on his sleeves, Sherlock's face twitches in its death throes, seeming to undulate and pass from one expression to another. His eyes rolling back, he blinks for one last time, somehow finding John's face and locking onto it with his final spark of life.  
A synapse fires, a memory of his best and only friend fading away in his traumatized brain like a dying ember.  
Sherlock's face grows still, his beautiful eyes freezing and hardening in their sockets like sea-glass marbles.  
The cannon sounds.  
"-Lock, Sherlock, we were going to win," mumbles John helplessly, shaking him as though trying to kick-start an engine back to life.  
He's gone.  
He cannot see through his tears, everything going milky. He feels the wetness on his wrists from Sherlock's breached skull and something tightening around the nape of his neck.  
"Leave him be," a gravelly voice intones from behind him, thick with rage, "and fight me like a real man."  
John realizes someone is pulling him away from the body, a large male hand, fingers grabbing the dirty fabric of his collar and tugging him sharply back.  
Something deep within him snaps.

+

After the Games, John is told that he is lucky to be alive.  
He travels to each of the districts, giving meaningless speeches and breaking a little bit more each time, unable to meet the eyes of the families whose children he watched die.  
Sherlock's family tearfully presents him with a small envelope after the ceremony in District 8. It contains a single photograph of the boy, sitting underneath a tree with his dog, carefree.  
Realization hits him anew that Sherlock really is gone. He will never sit under that tree again, never see his dog again, never kiss John again or know that he survived the Games.  
William Sherlock Scott Holmes, the brilliant boy with the sea-glass eyes, will never come home.

+

After the Games, John is told that he is lucky to be alive.  
He is not so sure.


End file.
